


A Quiet Moment

by CaptainSaku



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Pre-Relationship, Romance, Stargazing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-29
Updated: 2016-05-29
Packaged: 2018-07-11 01:06:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7018732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaptainSaku/pseuds/CaptainSaku
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's very late at night, and Cullen can't sleep. Neither can Inquisitor Trevelyan. And, as it happens, they both chose the same place to try to clear their mind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Quiet Moment

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Beakah](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Beakah/gifts).



> This is my part for the DA Fic Swap! I'm one week late, and I am horrible for it. I hope my swap buddy can forgive me. In any case, this is her Inquisitor, Aurelia. Hopefully I did her justice!
> 
> By the way, Beakah specifically asked for a pre-relationship fic, so if you were expecting kisses, I am /so/ sorry D:

It was dark outside; some odd hour in the night. He’d woken a scant few minutes earlier, shaken from sleep by a fresh wave of pain, a fresh nightmare to haunt his thoughts. Even in sleep he wasn’t safe; he hadn’t been for months now. If he could forgo sleep entirely, perhaps he would: it would spare him from the nightmares that plagued his nights.

_ Blood and screams and pain. Madness. The smell of charred flesh and burnt hair. Their numbers, dwindling. Alone, struggling, a futile fight already lost. Desire. Enticing, irresistible, dangerous, digging deep in his mind, twisting, tempting… _

Cullen closed his eyes, squeezed them tight against the cool night air blowing gently through the ramparts. He wasn’t back there anymore. That time was a decade past, and yet the memories continued to haunt him. Especially now that he wasn’t taking the lyrium anymore.

Maker, but he  _ should  _ be. He needed to be at his best. The Inquisition needed him to be at his best. For the billionth time in a handful of days, he considered going to Cassandra about it. If this kept up… he couldn’t– he  _ needed– _

His train of thought was interrupted by the sound of distant footsteps and… humming? Frowning, he pushed himself off the crumbling stone parapet and looked in the direction of the sound, suddenly alert. It was the middle of the night, and this was one of the still-broken areas of the battlements. There shouldn’t  _ be _ anyone here.

He could see through the dark that someone was approaching, a vaguely familiar figure silhouetted in the silver moonlight. It was dark, otherwise, and he couldn’t make out who it was; he hadn’t thought to bring a torch. The figure drew closer, growing larger with each step, until it finally resolved into the form of the Inquisitor.

Cullen blinked, confused. Inquisitor Trevelyan was the last person he had expected to see. Things had been... off... between them, ever since that afternoon they had shared over a game of chess. At some point he had thought, hoped, even… he sighed. There was no use dwelling on it. Whatever it was that he had sensed _ , _ he had quite clearly been wrong. Now… well. If he didn’t know any better, he’d say the Inquisitor was avoiding him. It was a ridiculous notion, he knew. For some time now, their interactions had felt… stiff, at best. Awkward. Where she used to come to him with a myriad of questions, seeking to know him and his work better, they now crossed paths only sparingly, and even then only when necessary. She always seemed to be leaving a room as soon as he entered it, and their exchanges were… politely professional, with words carefully chosen.

But then, perhaps it was no more than his imagination. Maker, was he losing his mind? Was this, too, the lyrium’s doing? The withdrawal? No… no. He had been off the blue liquid long enough to ascertain that he was sound of mind. Or, at least, he hoped he was. Regardless, the situation was ludicrous. And yet, there was no helping it. If the Inquisitor didn’t want to speak to him, then he would not force his presence upon her.

“Can’t sleep?” Her voice carried clearly in the night, and Cullen inclined his head in greeting, features schooled into cool composure.

“Inquisitor.” He was unsure of what to say. She had approached him, true, but… he clasped his hands behind his back and waited, feeling uncertain.

“I can’t sleep either,” she continued, almost to herself. He watched as she went to lean against the parapet, exactly where he had been only seconds before. She looked tired, worn, and a heavy sigh left her lips as she cast her gaze out towards the mountains. “What happened at Haven…”

“...was not your fault.” He cut her off and finished the sentence for her. Haven had dealt them all a nasty blow. They were still recovering from it, all of them. Only this morning, he had sent out birds to the families of those they had lost. With a sigh of his own, he joined her at the parapet, leaning heavily on the stone.  _ Concerned _ didn’t even begin to describe how he had felt that day, after evacuating the small town. After leaving her behind. Maker, he had thought– She could have– It was best not to think about it. She had made it out alive, and that was all that mattered. Of that, he was glad. “You did the best you could. We all did. Maker, you risked your  _ life… _ ”

“But it wasn’t enough, was it? We lost people.”

“We did. And we saved even more.” He looked out at the mountains himself, let his gaze pass over the silver-white snow that capped their peaks, then turned it skyward to the stars. “We couldn’t have saved everyone, Inquisitor. The odds were stacked against us. We were outnumbered, and that  _ dragon… _ ” Cullen trailed off and shook his head. “This was not your fault.”

“You say that. I could have done more. I  _ should _ have done more. So many people… and I was spared. Twice.”

“Perhaps the Maker willed it so.” He glanced at her, worried for her and her emotional state. They had all been so  _ busy _ , he hadn’t thought... He wondered if she, too, had had a nightmare. Perhaps bad dreams plagued her sleep as often as they plagued his. And somehow, they had all managed to forget that she, too, was a person like any other.

She snorted in disbelief. “The Maker seems to have great interest in me, if that’s the case. What if I wanted him to leave me alone?”

Cullen frowned and turned to look her full in the face. “Forgive me, my lady, I was under the impression that you were Andrastian.”

“I am. It’s just… I am not the Herald, Cullen. People look up to me, believe in me,  _ trust _ me. They don’t even  _ know _ me! How can they trust someone they–” She fell silent as Cullen reached out to touch his fingers to her elbow.

He let his hand drop to his side immediately, however, expression stern. She had tells, the Inquisitor. She started talking faster when she got worked up. Better to stop her now, before she said something she would regret. Besides… if he was perfectly honest, there was something deep within him that  _ screamed _ at him to help her. He had to  _ say _ something, to make her feel better. He couldn’t just stand there uselessly and allow her to blame herself for this, not when the only one to blame here was Corypheus. 

He didn’t know what to say, though. Worse still, he now had her undivided attention, green eyes–how did he know they were green? He could barely see in the moonlight–fixed on his face. Cullen shifted his weight, her gaze burning into him. He felt as though she could see into his soul. Grasping at straws, he cast his eyes around, looking for something to talk about. He was all too aware of the tightness of her jaw, how her mouth was clamped shut.  _ Maker preserve me, I should not have done that. _ “I, ah…” He cleared his throat. “Forgive the question, Inquisitor, but… were you humming, earlier?”

He might as well have struck her with lightning, the way she reacted. She pushed away from the parapet, tripped over herself, and stumbled backwards a few steps. Quick of reflexes, Cullen took her hand firmly in his and helped her regain her footing. He let go of her hand as soon as  she had straightened, heart stuttering in his chest as she stammered with her words, seemingly flustered.

“I wasn’t– I mean, I  _ was _ , but– I didn’t think– Andraste, you  _ heard  _ that?” 

Cullen rubbed the back of his neck, lips curved into a sheepish smile. “I am afraid I did, my lady. I, ah… didn’t expect to see anyone around these parts.”

“I didn’t either. I just… this is the best place to see the stars from.”

“The stars?” That was… not an answer he had expected. The Inquisitor looked away and stepped back to the parapet, nodding slowly.

“I… well, it’s nothing, really, I just– It’s only– What I’m trying to say here is–”

“Inquisitor?” She tensed; then her shoulders sagged.

“Aurelia.”   
  
“I’m sorry? I’m not sure I follow.”

“That’s my name. Please, call me Aurelia.”

Oh.  _ Oh _ . She wanted him to… oh. Cullen cleared his throat. His face felt warm all of a sudden.  _ Aurelia _ . It was a lovely name; as lovely as the woman who carried it. “Aurelia,” he conceded, with an inclination of his head. She still wouldn’t look at him. “... if you would like me to leave you to your stargazing, my lady…”

It was then that her head snapped round to look at him, eyes wide. “No! It’s… I wouldn’t mind the company. I– I mean, if you don’t mind...” She sighed and turned away. Was she… blushing? He couldn’t really tell in the dark, but he could have sworn… he wondered if he was seeing things.

Cullen let out his breath slowly and joined her on the stone wall, a bashful smile on his lips. “You enjoy the night sky?”

Another nod, and she fell silent. Her eyes were fixed on the sky now, and they shone and glittered in the shimmering starlight. She was a beautiful woman, he realized. Her lips were full, her cheeks and nose scattered with a myriad of freckles, in much the same way stars were scattered across the inky blue sky. Her hair fell in gentle waves around her face, and a stray curl or two always seemed to fall out when she tied it back. Realizing that he was staring, Cullen pushed the thoughts away and wrenched his eyes from her to fix them on the sky above them too. 

The silence stretched, slowly shaping the moment into one of peaceful companionship. Slowly, the tension left the line of her shoulders as she relaxed. Slowly, his thoughts quieted and his heart calmed. Everything was still in the night, frozen into a picture-perfect moment, were it not for the gentle rustle of the trees below, swaying in the breeze. Cullen breathed in the cool night air, inwardly thankful for the distraction and for her company. It was… nice. This was nice.

“Ah. Do you see that cluster of stars over there?” In time, he broke the silence. He had spotted a constellation, one of a handful he recognized, and he thought she might enjoy talking about it.

“You mean Bellitanus?” She cast a glance his way, but then turned her gaze to the area where he was pointing. A number of stars seemed to shine brighter and more recognizable than the others, and she smiled to herself. She seemed pleased.

“I always thought it was The Maiden. Is that not its name?” Aurelia let out a soft laugh and turned to look at him, a bright smile playing on her lips. His heart missed a beat at the sight of it. He had never seen her smile like that before. Then again, they rarely spent time together unless work was involved. And, lately, work had been anything but something to smile about.

“People call it The Maiden, because of the shape the stars trace in the sky, but the constellation is called Bellitanus.” She explained. Cullen nodded once, feeling unable to look away. There was just… there was  _ something _ about her, in the way her eyes burned with passion as she spoke, in the way she seemed unable to stop grinning, in the way the silver moonlight caressed her features, cast light into her eyes, revealed every hair out of place and made everything about them–about her–be surrounded in an eerie and enticing glow.

Maker, he wanted to  _ kiss _ her.

No. It wouldn’t be proper. It wouldn’t be right. He didn’t even know…  _ no. _ He swallowed thickly and looked away, back to the constellation, to give himself something else to look at. Something that wasn’t  _ her _ . “Ah.” Eloquent as ever, he gave a small nod and took a deep breath to clear his mind. “That… makes sense, actually. That constellations don’t have names that are so… mundane.”

Aurelia laughed at that, a loud, clear sound that rang in the silent night. She hurried to cover her mouth, and Cullen couldn’t keep the amused smirk from his lips as he slipped a sideways glance at her. “Andraste preserve me, that was– I should probably– I should go back. To my quarters.” She was fidgeting where she stood, cheeks a very visible shade of red. The smirk slid from Cullen’s face, and he stood straight, taking a step back from the wall.

“Then allow me to walk you back, my lady.” He could hardly let her return on her own; it wouldn’t be the right thing to do. Skyhold was safe, of course, but… it still wouldn’t feel right, not to offer.

“I know my way back, Cullen, you don’t need to trouble yourself…”

“I am offering, Aurelia.” She blinked at him, probably surprised at the sound of her name. It still felt strange to him, to be calling her by name. But she had asked him to, and he would make an effort to oblige.

“I… but…” She sighed, and her shoulders drooped fractionally. Whatever it was that had been going on in her mind, the battle had been won and a decision had been made. “... all right. Thank you.”

“Of course, my lady.” He offered her an arm, then, and she took it.

Cullen knew that he wouldn’t be able to fall back asleep tonight, not with the memory of his nightmare still so fresh and so vivid in his mind. But at least tonight wouldn’t be a night to be counted among the worst. Tonight, something had changed between him and the Inquisitor. They were on speaking terms again, even if he wasn’t sure what had caused her to stop talking to him in the first place, and that alone was enough to make his forced vigil worth it. Somehow, he felt as though they had become closer, after a quiet moment shared in each other’s company. He was starting to realize how much he really felt for her, and it was… an odd realization, to be sure. This was hardly the appropriate time for romance, and yet... perhaps there was some light to be found, in the midst of all the darkness that enveloped their day to day.


End file.
